


First Step and Last Step

by sleepyfaceandsnark (teamwinchesterbros)



Series: Here In My Arms Series [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Comfort, Denial, Gen, M/M, Serious Illness, Sick Mickey, ill mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:24:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamwinchesterbros/pseuds/sleepyfaceandsnark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey finds a permit in the mail and isn't too happy about Ian thinking he's sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Step and Last Step

It’s been almost a month since the doctor’s diagnosis and Mickey was still in fresh denial about his illness.

“I ain’t fucking sick.” Is a constant thing being said when Ian just asks Mickey to “take it easy” or “relax” the dark haired man insisting on going on with his life as he had been. Though he’s getting weaker quicker as days go the older man still denies it.

It’s a Tuesday, Ian comes inside after getting the mail, finding Mickey asleep on the couch. He throws the mail on the table and scoots the chair out to sit. He starts open the mail stack when he hears the couch squeak.

“Have a good nap?”

“I wasn’t napping I was just…”

“Resting your eyes.”

Mickey groans in confirmation.

Ian continues to flip through the mail until he comes across something he was waiting for. Thinking it’d take longer to get he wasn’t expecting it. He puts it in the “important” stack as he goes through the rest of the mail.

Mickey appears by the chair next to Ian and Ian tries not to notice how long it took him to get there.

Mickey lowers himself into the chair slowly and sits, his body hunched over slightly.

Ian gives him a small smile before he goes back to opening envelopes.

“Bills and shit?” Mickey asks.

“Yup.”

“Hmmm,” Mickey’s hands move through the “important” stack. “The fuck’s this?” He says when he comes across one of the opened mail.

Ian turns to look to find Mickey holding up the blue permit.

“I ain’t fuckin handicapped.”

Ian sighs and puts his hands on his face. “Mickey…we talked about this…”

“I know and I said I didn’t fucking need it.”

“You’re gonna need it.”

“No I’m not!”

“The doctor said-“ Ian starts but is cut off.

“That doctor’s a fuckin idiot. He doesn’t know shit.”

“Mickey! You can barely get across the room as is.” Ian tries to hold in his frustration.

“I’m doing fuckin fine.”

“It’s only going to get worse.” Ian says shaking his head.

“It’s not going to get worse cause I ain’t fuckin sick!”

“You are!” Ian says, louder than he intended, getting up from his chair. “You are fucking sick, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Mickey is left staring at Ian, a mix between hurt and angry.

“And _I_ need this,” Ian continues, grabbing the place card from Mickey’s hands. “I need this so I don’t have to worry about you. _I_ need this in case something happens to you and I gotta carry your ass to the car. I fucking need this. All your stubbornness about ‘not being sick’ is gonna fuck you over so I’d like it to be convenient if I have to drag your ass to the fucking hospital.” Ian lets out before he disappears to their bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Mickey sits back in his chair, swallowing Ian’s words down harshly.

Mickey stays by the table for a while looking through whatever laid out. Finally he decides to get up. He makes his way over to their bedroom door and knocks lightly.

“It’s open.” He hears from the other side.

Mickey opens the door slowly and steps in. He finds Ian sitting on the edge of the bed, staring towards the window.

“Hey,” Mickey says, voice a little horse.  He watches the back of Ian as Ian looks down.

Mickey sits on the other side, a small grunt escaping his lips. He scoots his body over closer towards Ian. “Hey, Ian,” Mickey nudges Ian, who turns around. He looks at Mickey then down to the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey says. “You can have…I’m sorry I went off on you.”

Ian nods and looks back up to Mickey.

“Yeah…” Ian breathes in. “I’m not though…” He looks at Mickey, almost guilty. “How I said it…yeah I’m sorry about that but it’s true, Mickey.” Ian looks at his boyfriend sadly. “You can’t keep…” Ian stops himself and sighs, rubbing his fingers between the bridge of his nose. He looks back at Mickey desperately. “I need you here. With me. Okay?”

Mickey bites his lip and looks down. He nods softly. Still not confirming what Ian (and the doctor) were claiming.

“I’m not…” Mickey starts.

“I know,” Ian gets up. “You’re not sick.” He walks over to Mickey and palms his hair, kissing the top of his head. He walks out of the room.

“Hey, where you goin’?”

“To make dinner.” Ian calls back to him.

Mickey sighs heavily knowing he’d have to make his way back to the kitchen. He steadies his breathing like he has been the past few weeks and gets back up, even though the bed was calling for him to continue to rest his tired body.

 

That Saturday comes and Ian’s made breakfast. He’s sitting out still enjoying the last of his coffee, reading whatever book he had with him, when he hears Mickey open their bedroom door.

“Morning,” Ian says when he can feel Mickey’s presence in the room.

There’s silence for a moment.

“Ian?” Mickey calls out softly.

It’s so soft it causes slight panic in Ian and he puts his book down.

“What is it?” He looks at Mickey worried.

“I think…I think I’m sick.” He looks up at Ian, eyes sad and tired.

It breaks Ian’s heart to hear as much as he was pressuring Mickey to accept it.

He gets up quickly and walks over to Mickey, who looks scared at his admittance. Because admitting it now made it real.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He wraps his arms around Mickey to hold him. Mickey clings on to Ian.

“You wanna lay down?”

Mickey nods against Ian.

“Back to bed or here?”

Mickey points to the couch and Ian leads him to it. He rubs his back as he helps him get comfortable.

When Mickey lays down Ian spends a little while soothing Mickey by pushing his hair back and running his thumb across his face. Mickey’s eyes close and Ian gets up to get a blanket to drape on him before calling the doctor.

They were told it was a fast acting illness so maybe Mickey got too weak to no longer hide it or maybe he knew all along and was finally too tired to deny it.


End file.
